


Broken Bird

by alh1971



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Anal Sex, Chastity Device, Drug Addiction, F/M, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 05:34:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4734482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alh1971/pseuds/alh1971
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sandor returns after the Battle of Blackwater to find that Sansa has mysteriously disappeared…he later finds her in a very unlikely place. Explicit, please heed tag warnings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Bird

AN: This is a dark, sexually explicit story, which could be construed as dubcon, with bdsm undertones, although I believe the ending is happy(ish). Please heed the tag warnings, as there is content that may be offensive to some readers.

...  
...

Sandor was weary. A fatigue that went well beyond the physical and sickened the mind and soul. After Sansa’s refusal to leave with him, he returned to the thick of battle, facing his fears and somehow able to avoid his worst nightmare of being burned alive. Later, he had stumbled, battered and bloodied back to his chambers and passed out. 

However, something had made him rouse before the first light of dawn. A sixth sense that he had long ago learned not to ignore drew him to the little bird’s chambers, a niggling fear that all was not well.

Barging into her room, he knew immediately that she was gone. A mounting dread rushed his actions, despite the throbbing pain in his head. He searched every nook, under the bed, on the balcony, but there was no sign of her. All of her clothing, her personal effects remained, though it did nothing to quell his panic. Swallowing his bile, he methodically combed the castle and grounds, growled at what frightened servants remained behind, but over the course of the day, he knew with a sickened surety that his efforts were in vain.

The little bird had flown her cage. But whether she was alive or dead, Sandor did not know. 

The Hound, a man who scoffed at vows and “knightly” honor made an oath to himself: to find Sansa Stark or die trying.

…  
…  
6 months later  
…  
Sandor stopped at the main tavern in Gullstown. One that might have patrons who had seen or heard of a young auburn haired high-born beauty…

The innskeeper smirked at his inquiries and, just as previous town’s inhabitants had lasciviously suggested before, hinted that the local brothel might have a red-haired wench to satisfy a knight’s hunger. Snarling in disdain that he was no Ser, he threw coin on the table after chugging his ale and stomped out into the night. Heading to the stable where Stranger waited, he passed by the brothel in question. 

Wavering for a moment, he nonetheless entered the dimly lit, incense reeking whorehouse. He was immediately greeted by a middle-aged madam, dressed in the finest of silks. 

Staring at his burned face without flinching, she produced a well manufactured grin. “Welcome to paradise. We have the most beautiful women Gullstown has to offer, the most skilled, the most.—“

“Bugger that, bitch,” Sandor snarled. He was gratified to see the façade drop, her smirk melting from her face as her eyes now betrayed her fear. He reached out and grabbed her arm before she could turn from him. He continued in a low growl, “I seek a young maiden, red of hair—“

Her smile returned and she boldly interrupted, “Ah, a maiden you seek. We cater to all men’s tastes. We have one, but not red of hair. Although…I’m afraid she will have to keep her maiden’s head per our owner’s strictest of instructions. Her master wishes her to learn the arts of pleasure, and while she must remain a maid technically, she...has other holes that can please a man just as well, ones that are just as pink, as tight…”

His grip on her arm tightened, his anger mounting. Shrieking in terror, she ordered, “Tam, bring the master's pet out here. At once! This warrior needs see if she fits his requirements.”

Bowing, the servant ran and after only a brief respite, returned with a dark-haired woman in tow. Sandor sneered at the prostitute, who was covered in a veil that hid her face, as well as a diaphanous robe. He could see her breasts through the fabric. Breasts that were pert and rounded, with pink tips. 

Against his will, he felt his cock hardening. It had been so long since he’d had a woman. Well before the Battle of Blackwater…And gods knew he had enough pent up frustration. 

Pulling out a couple of gold dragons, he threw the coins at the madam and strode to the veiled woman, grabbing her by the arm as he headed to the back of the establishment. 

“Send red wine, the strongest you have. And we’re not to be disturbed tonight.” Although Sandor generally had simple fuck-and-runs with whores, he was tired and planned on sleeping in tonight after he’d had his pleasure.

Letting out a small squeak, the woman obediently led him to her chamber, which was spacious for a whore’s room. The walls were covered in silk and her bed was large and sumptuous, with several lavish pillows strewn about. Though…the room was dark, lit only by a single candle on a nightstand. 

He began removing his armor as he waited for the wine to arrive. By the time the servant appeared with a large flask of Dornish red, he was stripped down to his tunic and breeches. Grunting, he quaffed half of the wine in a few draughts, wiping the spilled droplets on his sleeve. 

Eyeing the whore who stood meekly in front of him with her head down, he grumbled, “Remove your robe, girl.”

Obediently, she let the silken fabric fall, though her face veil stayed in place. 

Sandor’s eyes hungrily fell over her form, which rivaled the Maiden’s given the size and shape of her breasts, her tapered waist and firm hips and thighs.

However, he snorted in annoyance when he saw the leather and metal chastity belt that was wrapped around her hips and covered her mound.

Shaking his head, he grunted, “Come here, girl.”

Once again, she silently obeyed. He took her by her hips and turned her around. He noted that the back of the belt was a simple chain which threaded across her arse crack and met the top of the waist, slack enough to be pulled aside to allow access to her back entrance. He pressed on her back and bent her over, spreading her cheeks apart with his thumbs. Indeed, her pink arse hole was uncovered though he noticed that a small plug was fitted into her cunt, effectively preventing entrance into her most desirable hole. Apparently the owner of the brothel was serious about keeping the whore “pure.” Despite the fitted dildo, he reckoned that its girth was not wide enough to tear her precious maidenhead. 

Shrugging, he lightly slapped her rump, which caused her to gasp. It wasn’t his preference, but then again, it wasn’t his first time to fuck a whore’s arse. 

“All right girl, on the bed,” he ordered. She obeyed and kneeled down on all fours, brushing her long dark hair over her shoulder. She spread her legs far apart and arched her spine, causing her backside to raise high in subservience. 

Stripping off the rest of his clothes, he knelt on the bed. He eyed the whore’s small orifice with skepticism while he stroked his rock hard cock. 

“Girl, I’m large. Although I don’t doubt you’ve had it up the arse before, I don’t want to tear you.” He continued pumping his cock as the girl sat up and without word retrieved a bottle from her nightstand. Turning to him, she poured a generous amount of the liquid onto her hand and began perfunctorily lubing up his shaft. He moaned in pleasure as his head fell back. His attention snapped back to her as he watched her pour some of the oil on her arse, which she began to spread around and in her hole with her fingers. 

He continued fucking his fist as he allowed her to return the oil to the table and resume her former position, arse up.

Groaning in approval, he yanked the belt’s chain well out of the way to allow better access and thumbed her lovely pucker apart. Inserting just the tip of his cockhead he warned, “I’ll try to take it slow at first girl, but it’s been a long time. I can’t promise I’ll be gentle.” 

Nodding her head, the girl spread her arms to either side of her head for better balance.

True to his word, he started slowly, but her hole was so very warm and tight, and even though fully lubed, he had to fight to fully sheathe himself. Grimacing as if in pain, he rubbed her voluptuous cheeks with one hand as his other gripped her hip. She let out a feminine moan at his ministrations.

“Ah, so good, your sweet arse feels so good, it barely fits my cock, little one.” Although the room was dimly lit, he could see that her tiny hole was stretched to the limit by his girth, which only served to skyrocket his arousal. 

Groaning, he began pumping in and out slowly, but before long he could no longer hold himself back and began thrusting at a punishing, frenetic pace, abusing her small orifice. She began mewling helplessly. In pain or pleasure, Sandor could not be sure, although he noted through his lust filled haze that she was squirming as if to cause more friction with her belt.

Finally, overcome with ecstasy, he grunted his release, hunching over her and placing a rough kiss on her sweat-bedewed back. 

Whimpering softly, she straightened on the bed as he withdrew his softened member. He fell heavily to the side as she stoically stood and went to the corner of the room, presumably to clean herself. However, he noticed that she surreptitiously tipped a small bottle to her lips and tilted her head back before wiping herself clean. 

He shrugged internally, knowing that the whore likely sipped on milk of the poppy, which was used by brothel owners to keep workers subservient and close to their source of the drug, which they would increasingly crave with their addiction.

She returned with a soft cloth and knelt on the bed beside him, gently cleansing his cock. He closed his eyes and let out a great sigh, his body content in a way it hadn’t been in a long time.

After she had completed her cleaning ritual, she returned to the side of the bed, her hands clasped in front of her with her head bowed. Opening his eyes, he huffed irritably, “Don’t just stand there, girl, get into bed.”

She meekly climbed in and lay with her back facing him. This only served to further irritate him. 

“Turn around and look at me, or can you not stand to look upon a scarred dog? Albeit one that just fucked your arse?”

She obediently turned to face him but kept her eyes averted. He noticed that she still wore the damned veil, which covered the lower half of her face. Reaching down, he went to yank the fabric away but was startled when she reached up, grasping the material and frantically shaking her head.

Growling in frustration, he ordered, “Take the damned veil off, girl. I want to see your face. Or are you as hideous as I?” He laughed cruelly as she continued to feebly fight off his hands. 

Tired of her charade, he finally ripped the silk free, revealing her face.

He froze, heart hammering. 

Time stood still for the both of them.

Surely it wasn’t…his damned eyes were playing tricks on him!

Jumping out of bed, he grabbed the candle and held it up to her head. She was crying and had covered her face with her hands.

With one large hand, he grabbed both fragile wrists and pulled them down. His stomach dropped as he breathed out, “Little bird? Sansa? But how…”

Tears fell down her face as she looked up at him with her unmistakable Tully-blue eyes and whispered her first words to him.

“No lord, my name is Alayne.”

…  
…  
The girl had fought him, but she was weak and obviously drugged. Finally, to quiet her, he pinched the arteries in her neck, which caused her to pass out. 

He laid her gently on the bed and brutally bit his lip in agonized frustration. Heedless of the blood that dripped down his chin, he went into action.

Dressing quickly, he pulled on his mail and boots. First and foremost, he tore off the gods damned chastity belt, making sure to be gentle as he removed the metal nub that had been inserted into her sweet channel. Growling in fury, he kicked the offending item under the bed. He then rummaged through her wardrobe until he located the most modest dress he could find. Although obviously a whore’s dress given the tightness of the bodice and low neckline, it was better than the see-through robes she worked in. He found some silk slippers and put them on her feet, and then hoisted her over his shoulder. He was about to leave the room when he thought of something…

Turning to the corner table, he grabbed several vials of what he suspected was her secret drug and put them into his money pouch. He knew that the little bird was likely addicted and he would have to bring her down slowly off the damnable stuff, but wean her he would…  
…  
…  
It wasn’t until Stranger was well on his way to the harbor, where Sandor planned to charter a ship, that Sansa began to rouse.

Blinking confusedly, she turned in his arms and looked up at his face. Reaching out with a trembling hand, she caressed his burns and whispered, “Sandor…is it truly you or just another cruel trick Petyr is playing on me?”

Her soft, frightened voice unleashed a flood of guilt and sorrow in the Hound. Unbidden, a hot tear fell down his face and plopped down on her hand, which still cupped his cheek.

Clearing his throat, he gruffed, “Aye, it’s me little bird.”

Nodding in relief, she sank against his chest.

He bent and kissed the top of her head as he whispered, “The nightmare’s over. I’ll keep you safe.”  
…  
…  
Sandor continued to the docks, paying the captain a hefty sum to keep his mouth shut and allow him to load both Stranger and his precious cargo, his fragile broken bird.

On board, after he led Stranger down below to the ship’s stables, he returned to stand on the deck, holding Sansa as she slept like a babe in his arms. Glancing down at her, he knew he had to tamp down his escalating rage and bloodlust. Shaking his head, he growled to himself. He would seek revenge on Littlefucker in time, but now he had to focus on healing the girl…

The sky began to lighten but he didn’t turn around as the ship set sail. Instead, he kept his eyes straight ahead to their intended destination, far away from Westeros. 

…

The End


End file.
